She burst out laughing. “What does that even mean?”
“It means we’re shelving this conversation until I make you dinner. You have to be starving.”8ASHE perched on a high-backed barstool in her kitchen to watch Timur work. He was silent while he chopped vegetables, but he worked with a calm efficiency that told her he was very comfortable in a kitchen. She loved watching him. It was strange to feel as if she’d always known him. Already, she wasn’t certain she could leave even if she really wanted to. She felt at peace when she was close to him.
He wore a pair of gray sweatpants with a black racing stripe down each leg. He’d pulled on a black tee that stretched across his chest, one tight enough that she reaped the benefits, watching his muscles ripple with every movement.
“What was your mother like, Timur?” The moment she asked the question, she knew it was a mistake.
Timur stiffened and seemed to concentrate even more on chopping up the vegetables. “She was fragile. She knew my father was going to murder her one day. All the women in the lair knew their husbands would kill them.”
“Why didn’t they run?”
His dark lashes flicked up and she found herself staring into his ice-blue eyes. “They knew they couldn’t go far enough. They’d have been run to the ground.”
“Maybe, but at least they would have had a chance. Why didn’t they ban together and fight back? If I thought you were going to kill me eventually …”
“After you gave me sons.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, although it was a waste. He was back to chopping vegetables and tossing them into a wok where small pieces of steak had already been seared. She loved watching him when he cooked. He seemed to relax more. “Okay, especially after I gave you sons. I’d wait until you were asleep, and then I’d shoot you. I wouldn’t miss either. If I used a silencer, I could go around to all the other houses and shoot my friends’ husbands.”
A slow smile curved the hard edges of his mouth and her heart nearly stopped beating. He was gorgeous when he smiled.
“Bloodthirsty little thing. I’m keeping all weapons out of your reach. Of course, I have no intention of doing in my woman, even though I’m more than certain you’re going to piss me off royally very often.”
She took a snap pea and waved it at him. “Where did these groceries come from?”
“The store.” He grinned down at the last of vegetables, scooping them up and tossing them neatly into the wok.
“I don’t own a wok either.”
“No, this is mine. I looked at your pots and pans, baby, and I can assure you, they’re all shit. Completely. I have liberated them.”
“What does that mean?” She didn’t really care what it meant, she had no interest in pots and pans. It was just that she wanted to keep him talking. She loved to hear the sound of his voice, especially in this mood, where there was near-laughter in him. He was so adorable standing there, slathering butter on sourdough bread, his hair falling in his face making him look younger. Then there were those eyelashes. So dark, like his hair.
“I threw them out and I sent Jeremiah to the grocery store. I threatened to beat him to a bloody pulp if he forgot one thing on my list or if he deviated in any way. I double-checked the groceries, and he got everything I asked for.”
“Now you have perfect strangers bringing groceries into my house.”
“You were working. So was I, and believe me, there is nothing perfect about Jeremiah. We needed a little help and Jeremiah needs a little guidance. He’s too enthusiastic and has very little patience. I don’t want the kid to get in over his head before he’s ready. Pulling him off main assignments to do a few errands bugs the hell out of him, but it keeps him from getting too bored and screwing up.”
“I see. By letting him come into my home, without my permission, by the way, you’re saving this kid’s life.” His reasoning eluded her, but she wasn’t going to get too worked up because one of his men brought them food. “And the clothes you’re wearing? Where did they come from?”
He shrugged, his wide shoulders rolling, drawing attention to his very muscular chest. “Packed a duffel bag before I left my brother’s house. I told you I was going to stay with you.”
“You are so pushy, Timur. What if I don’t want you staying here?”
He put the bread in the oven, and then tossed the vegetables around in the wok before looking at the rice cooker. “Doesn’t matter. I’m keeping you safe.”
“You just want sex.”
Those blue eyes went from ice to flame. Fingers of desire crept down her spine. She couldn’t help her reaction to the intensity of that look.